


Fives & Dimes

by CaptainJZH



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cashier, Dollars, Gen, Inanimate Objects, Written for a Class, coins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:54:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26176030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainJZH/pseuds/CaptainJZH
Summary: Dime was new to the coin bowl. Nickel's there to show him the ropes.
Relationships: Original Male Character & Original Male Character
Comments: 1





	Fives & Dimes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my creative writing class!

I had never seen so many coins before. Sure, I’d seen dimes. So many dimes, you probably wouldn’t know what to do with ‘em. But as I fell into the massive jar, I was overwhelmed by the sea of metal surrounding me. Brown coins, big coins, gold coins, silver coins… Suddenly, I heard a comforting voice.

“Hey, a dime!” I heard, and it took a moment for me to remember that yes, I was a dime. Some guy named “Roosevelt” was on my face, but I couldn’t remember if his first name was Theodore or Franklin.

So many voices, echoing against the glass of the jar. More change fell on top of me, sandwiching me between a bunch of other coins. I rotated around, and found that the comforting voice was that of a Nickel. A ‘05 nickel, to be exact. 

“Uh, hi?” I asked, letting out a chuckle. 

I got a good look at him. That “Jefferson” guy was on his face. He was a little dirty, but none the worse for wear.

“Hi, yourself,” Nickel remarked. “New to the jar, huh?”

I didn’t answer.

“Where you from, Ten-Cent?”

“Uh, wherever we get made? I forget… I forget most of that.”

Nickel laughed. “No, no, I mean how’d ol’ Delores get you?”

It suddenly all came back to me. That first spark of life in the Mint, surrounded by other dimes. Then an  _ eternity  _ in a coin roll. I liked those times. Snuggly pressed between other dimes like me, safely in the darkness of the bank vault.

Then one day, we all got taken out. Given to some guy who exchanged us for five dollars of  _ paper  _ money. Then the roll was broken. We fell out into a drawer and before I knew it, I was being given away to some old woman, 90-something years old, in exchange for something called “Canker Sore Remover,” with the words  _ AS SEEN ON TV  _ proudly emblazoned next to it.

“Then everything went dark for a while,” I told Nickel, wrapping up the story, “And I wound up here. Where is  _ here,  _ anyway?”

“Here,” Nickel began, “is Mrs. Dementia’s life savings. I dunno what she’s saving up for, but for all I know she’s paying off the goddamn jar.”

I chuckled. Only a few minutes had passed and I was already getting used to things.

“Who are they?” I asked, regarding the incredibly-loud pennies sitting below us.

_ “We’re irrelevant!”  _ they cried out, in frightening unison.

“The Pennies,” Nickel answered. “They’re a hive mind. Nobody really likes them, but you can’t really get mad at them.”

_ “We take up space in people’s wallets!”  _ they chanted.

I looked to my left and saw a Quarter. That Washington guy was on his face. He had a nasally, kinda-obnoxious voice. “Did you know that nickels aren’t really made of nickel?”

“Uh…” I trailed off.

Nickel spoke up. “Yeah, and George Washington owned slaves. Shut up Quarter.”

As Quarter did exactly as he was told, I felt myself grow more comfortable around Nickel. He was confident, knowledgeable… He seemed to have my back for some reason. I guess he had a penchant for the new guys. 

“Quarters,” Nickel remarked. “Think they’re so smart just because they’re the only ones accepted at arcades.” He raised his voice. “You’re getting replaced by tokens, ya know!”

I glanced to my other side, seeing a large coin I didn’t recognize. He had a man I didn’t recognize on his face, with the words “Half Dollar” 

“Who’s he?” I asked, curious.

“Oh, him?” Nickel began. “That’s Halfie. He’s an  _ institution.  _ Been here so long he remembers granny’s better half better than she does.” I looked at Halfie. He didn’t say anything.

After that, it was hard to tell how much time passed, as the room outside the jar hardly changed. Heck, Delores herself didn’t change. She spent every day in the same chair, watching the same inane game shows where people got showered in money, though usually  _ paper  _ money. Sometimes she’d dump some more coins on top of us, after lugging in a ton of groceries too big for her to carry. Then it’d be right back to the game shows, where people would dive into  _ pits  _ of money in addition to being showered with it.

“I find this show offensive,” Quarter piped in.

“Shut up, Quarter,” I said, catching myself immediately after. “I mean, uh, I didn’t mean… I meant… Be quiet?”

“No, you had it right the first time,” Nickel corrected.

Before I could respond, the TV was suddenly turned off, and Delores began to walk towards the jar. She never did this. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” I frantically said in a panic. “What’s she doing, what’s she doing?”

“Shit…” Nickel muttered.  _ “It’s laundry day.” _

The elderly woman reached into our jar, digging her hands deep into the pile of coins. We were radically shifted around, being pushed against the sides of the jar as her hand secured its grasp on our fellows. The pressure was suddenly released, pulling us away from the sides as her hand ascended back out of the jar. We were scattered around.

“Nickel?” I shouted. “Nickel?!”

“There are  _ twenty billion  _ nickels out there, Dime,” I heard Nickel call out. “Just shouting the name ain’t gonna help.”

“Nickel!” I exclaimed, rolling over to my friend. My  _ only  _ friend. “I was worried you got taken away!”

“Relax, I’m fine. We’re fine! Nothing bad’s gonna happen, Dime.”

An unfamiliar voice then hollered throughout the jar. “That’s what  _ you  _ think, Five-Cent!” it shouted. We all spun around to face the speaker: Halfie.

“I was here in ‘96, last time this baby got full,” Halfie said, his voice gravelly and rough. “The teller forgot about me then, so here I am. And you coins don’t know what’s coming.”

“And what is coming, if I may ask?” Quarter asked, skeptical.

“What’s coming is the  _ bank,  _ Mr. Know-It-All,” Halfie continued. “Once our widower friend out there gets enough coins, she’s gonna deposit us all into a vault, where we’ll sit in a bunch of  _ rolls.  _ No more cushy jar. No more watching soap operas in the daytime. Soon all you’ll know is the darkness of a pocketbook.”

Sensing my fear, Nickel spoke up in defiance. “I’ve been here a while, old timer. And unless she gets a sudden windfall of coins, I doubt our hearing-disabled friend is going to be depositing us anytime soon.”

Then Delores got a sudden windfall of coins.

“Thank you  _ BINGO NIGHT!”  _ she proclaimed as she dumped a bag of change into the jar, nearly crushing us with the weight.

Before we knew it, she was carrying the jar into the bank, surprisingly strong for her age. The teller immediately gulped in fear as she approached the counter, slamming the jar down in front of the poor man.

“Uh, ma’am, I’m afraid we can only accept coinage that has already been rolled,” the teller tried to say before getting cut off.

“Now listen here,  _ buster,”  _ Delores argued, “I’ve been saving money since before your mother was born, and in all those years, the bank agreed to roll my coins. So you’re going to do it, or else I’ll call your manager over and have you  _ fired,  _ kapeesh? _ ” _

The teller then quickly nodded, after which she dumped the entire jar’s contents onto the counter. Nickel and I were immediately separated, as was everyone else. Before I could even think, I got snatched up by the teller. The familiar sight of a green dime roll was in my future, and I couldn’t bare to see it, regardless of its former comforts.

“Wait, no! No!” I called out, frantic as I was slowly placed into the roll of dimes. “You can’t— I can’t— I don’t—” 

Another dime was lowered in after me. I began pushing myself towards the light, desperately wanting to escape the darkness of the roll.

_ “I don’t want to go!”  _ I screamed, forcing myself out with all my might.

I fell back onto the counter, bouncing across the field of coinage until I finally came to a stop. The teller had no idea what hit him, and was too busy picking up the broken dime roll to see me. Perfect.

“Hey, Ten-Cent!” I heard Halfie call out. I looked towards him. The half-dollar was inside a cash drawer, which had been removed from the register to prepare Delores’ exchange.

“Guess my luck ran out, huh?” he mused. “They don’t get enough of me for rolls, so here I am, hanging out with the big boys.”

“I… I need to find Nickel.”

“Kid, like he said, there are twenty billion other nickels. How the  _ hell  _ are you gonna find him in this mess?”

I paused for a moment. There  _ had  _ to be a way to find him. 

“Hey, quarters!” I finally called out. The quarters in the drawer immediately perked up, ready for the attention. “Who’s the guy on my face?”

“Roosevelt,” one said.

“Who was engaged in intercourse with his fifth cousin Eleanor,” another chimed in.

“Okay, good,” I continued, “Now where do the nickels get counted?”

“Other end of the counter,” a third quarter rang in.

“With the blue rolls,” a fourth one finished. 

I thanked them and looked to Halfie. 

“Pretty smart,” he complimented. “But how’re you gonna get over there?”

“Pennies!” I called out.

_ “We don’t know why they still make us!”  _ the eponymous group sang, practically hopping up and down in their cup.

“Yeah, we know,” I said, hopping into the penny cup. “Listen, I need you guys to launch me over to the end of the counter. I know you got the energy.”

_ “We’re essentially worthless!” _

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I said, plopping myself at the edge of the cup.

I took one last look in Halfie’s direction. “Take care of yourself, old timer,” I said, earning a wink (we could wink?) in approval.

_ “Nobody likes us!”  _ the Pennies finally proclaimed as they thrust their collective weight down onto the other end of the cup, flinging me down the counter.

I hit the wall with a skid, landing right next to the blue nickel rolls. Quickly regaining my senses, I looked around, desperately trying to recognize my friend. 

“Nickel?” I called out, growing more and more frantic.  _ “Nickel?!” _

“Over here, Dime!” I heard his voice say, turning my attention to one of the half-filled rolls. The teller was distracted picking up some fallen quarters, buying us some time. I bounced myself over to the nickel roll.

“Nickel,” I began, talking fast. “I’m gonna get you out of here, we don’t have to be separated, we can go back into the jar, we’ll be safe there…”

“Dime,” my friend interrupted, resignation deep in his voice. “We  _ won’t be safe.  _ In a few years, the jar fills up again. We go through this again, except now we’re at the bottom of the jar. The first to go.”

“But—” 

“You’re not my first friend, Dime. Every cash register, every vault, every wallet, someone else comes along. You weren’t special.”

“But you were to me!” I belted out, trying to appeal to some core emotion. “I had  _ nothing  _ before I met you… I don’t want to be lost again.”

“This is just the way it is. See ya ‘round, Dimey.”

Before I could respond, the teller finished picking up the quarters and got back to work on the nickel rolls, sealing Nickel away. 

“No, no, no,  _ NO!”  _ I screamed, my cries falling upon deaf ears as the roll was filled.

Soon after, I was picked up and placed in a dime roll, same as before. Same old, same old. I saw so many familiar faces when I finally got taken out months later — Washington, Lincoln, Kennedy, Roosevelt, Jefferson…

But I never saw my friend Nickel again.


End file.
